Dear Mr Hawkeye
by Psmith73
Summary: AU. Glenn is a struggling student neck-deep in debts. One day, while trying to earn some money, he gets himself in serious troubles. An anonymous benefactor offers him help in return for weekly e-mails describing events of his life. Jean Webster's "Daddy-long-legs"/TWD fusion. Pastiche. Crack. Daryl/Glenn, Ensemble
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings:** Potential spoilers from seasons 1-3 of TWD and Jean Webster's "Daddy-Long-Legs". Rated for themes and language. All the highs of this story belong to Jean Webster and all the lows are mine.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own AMC's "The Walking Dead", Jean Webster's "Daddy-Long-Legs" or Marvel's "Avengers".

**Special thanks** to my lovely BETAs - **doctorkaitlyn** and** undeadstoryteller - **they are the best.

* * *

**Dear Mr. Hawkeye**

_E-mails of Glenn Rhee to Mr. Hawkeye Smith_

Dear Kind-and-Generous-yet-Slightly-Creepy-Benefactor,

It seems weird to be writing e-mails to somebody that I don't know. Moreover, it seems wrong of me to even consider the thought of accepting your generous offer. I mean, I don't have the faintest idea of who you are or even who you might be.

But, first thing first: thank you very much for bailing me out of jail the other day! Guess I have to justify myself. You already know that I got arrested for participation in street racing. Though I realize that such behavior is inexcusable (especially in the eyes of my conservative parents), I had no other choice. I'm neck deep in debts and will get expelled if I don't pay my college fees. And I have no one to seek help from since I'm not on speaking terms with my above mentioned conservative parents. The prize money for winning that race could have covered a huge part of my debts, if I wasn't stupid enough to get caught by the cops.

The lawyer you hired told me about the conditions of your offer. It's very kind and generous of you to bail me out of jail anonymously and it's even kinder for you to suggest that you will pay off my school loans in return for only weekly e-mails to you.

I have been thinking about you and your offer a great deal this whole week; having somebody take an interest in me, a simple pizza delivery boy, is kind of strange, if not to say a bit creepy. That is, I really have nothing to give you in return for your kindness, save my sincere and eternal gratitude. Which forces me to ask: what consequences might I have to face if I accept your offer? What secret agenda might you have? Maybe you're a rich estranged uncle of mine that I never knew I had. At least it's better than thinking that you might turn out to be some gangster who will eventually want to collect my organs in return for your favor, or that I've been chosen to be your project in some scientific research (thesis in sociology?). I can't help but wonder what is worse – death at the hands of a gangster, or a life of humiliation after that presumed work of yours is published (then again, who reads those?). I'd prefer to settle for the uncle theory. I've always been a glass-half-full kind of guy after all. Though I must admit that it is one very tempting proposition and it's not like I have a lot of other options to consider. Guess, I'll have to take my chances and all the risks that may come with it.

I have to confess that I did try to bribe your lawyer to get more information about you, though it's an impossible task to accomplish when all you've got is a hole in your pocket. Pathetic. The lawyer had a good laugh at my expense and warned me not to mess with you. Because, to quote him: "Mr. Smith has a keen eye and never misses his aim with that crossbow of his." Interesting! The oblivious bastard gave me one significant clue about you. I wonder how many people in Georgia own crossbows? Do you have to register one like you do with guns?

There was also another, I should say, rather disturbing detail he gave me. For some unexplainable reason the man was under impression that I was a refugee from China. Seriously?! Judging from his speech I've learned that you know a lot about me, yet you've somehow managed to miss the fact that I am **a Korean-descent-third-generation-American** from Michigan! It is kind of racist to consider all Asians to be Chinese, don't you think? (Alas, there went my "uncle theory"…)

So, concluding everything written above, there are just four things that I know (or think that I know) about you:

You are a man.

You have a crossbow.

You are rich.

You are a bit racist.

The lawyer referred to you as Mr. John Smith. Really? Why not Mr. John Doe or Mr. Nobody? Couldn't you be a little more creative? That name lacks personality. I refuse to call you that. Instead I'll give you another name. Let's think.

Suppose I might call you Dear Mr. Racist. Only that's rather insulting to both of us. Maybe Dear Mr. Creepy-Philanthropist or Dear Mr. Crazy-Rich-Guy? But that's kind of insulting to you. So that leaves us with only the crossbow. And since I'm a big fan of Marvel comics (yes, you can roll your eyes here, I'm what you may call a nerdy type of guy), I've decided to call you Dear Mr. Hawkeye. I hope you won't mind. It's rather flattering to you, because Hawkeye is one of the coolest comic book heroes out there. It will be a private pet name, we won't tell anybody. :)

In other words, if you still haven't changed your mind, I do accept your kind offer to pay off my study loan and in exchange, I will write you weekly e-mails describing the trivial events of my boring life (wonder what gain you might get from _that_). This is the first one and there will be more. But it's late now and I'm tired. True to my word, I'll write you later. Good night.

Yours most respectfully, Glenn Rhee.

P.S. Just in case if you are some gangster, please do not take my rant above too close to heart! I had no intention to offend you, by any means!

Again, yours _most respectfully_, Glenn Rhee.

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Mr. Hawkeye,

I hate Atlanta, I hate Georgia and I hate this unbearable heat! Why, why on Earth didn't I listen to my parents and apply to one of those colleges they chose for me in Michigan? It's the middle of September and I can hardly sleep at night because it's so hot. I live in a shitty little apartment on the top floor of an old building (but perhaps you know that already). All the windows are wide open, but it doesn't provide any of the coolness this place desperately needs; the air is still disgustingly stale. I'm even thinking of going nude for a while – no one visits me anyway. Then again, I don't want to shock any of the neighbors whose windows face mine. Nope, not in a million years would I wish Merle Dixon to see me without clothes. Nor do I EVER wish to see him naked. God, and now I have _that picture_ in my head! Gross! I hate my vivid imagination sometimes.

But now I guess I have to explain who Merle Dixon is. _Unless you already __know_…

Damn it! I'm getting a little paranoid. Ever since I met Michael Coleman, that lawyer of yours, I've developed a nagging feeling of being constantly followed and watched. Kind of an uncomfortable sensation, I must say. Reminds me of a guy I used to know – Jim, the mechanic, if I recall it right. He used to rent an apartment in this building, until they put him into some mental asylum. The guy had an unhealthy obsession with conspiracy theories. No wonder his wife divorced him eventually, got full custody of their kids and a restraining order against the poor guy. Guess that was the last straw for him. Wouldn't want to end up like that!

Anyway, let's get back to the subject at hand or _revenons a nos moutons_, as the French say (learned this expression in class today). Merle Dixon. The most obnoxious human being I've ever met in my life. Where to start? Well, if I make a list of all his "charming" traits of character, this e-mail would be way too long. I'll just try to outline the most disturbing ones. First of all, there is his shady criminal past. And maybe not even past – wouldn't be surprised if it turns out that the man cooks meth in his spare time. Don't have any solid proof but I'm quite sure that he is a drug dealer! On top of all that he is a sexist and a racist – Neo Nazi, a proud member of The Aryan Brotherhood. Wouldn't want to bump into Merle when he is sober, but when he's high – that's when the guy gets really dangerous. Last week that douchebag beat up T-Dog just because of the color of his skin. And yesterday he set a dog on me!

Have no idea where he got that monster, but if it weren't for that chair in the foyer, I'm not sure whether I'd still have any fingers to type this e-mail to you. In case you work for WSPA, I must assure you that I didn't harm the devilish creature, just used it as a protection against the beast! I kind of like my limbs the way they are; attached to my body and not serving as dog food. And what happened with the "no pets allowed" policy that our landlord Hershel Greene established earlier this year?

By the way, it seems like Daryl (Merle's younger brother) doesn't enjoy the company of the bloodthirsty hound either. Heard them fighting over it that same evening, Daryl was shouting something about _"Lassie" going home_ (wasn't eavesdropping, the open windows did their job) – couldn't agree more.

Anyway, the point is – I despise Merle Dixon! The bastard hates everyone, save his brother, and he truly believes that if you are a white supremacist, that fact alone admits you to heaven without any further examination. Merle and I were born to be enemies. Saw him with a hooker the other day. Hope she gives him the clap or something even nastier!

Ok, enough with Merle. Let's change the subject.

My college life is not very interesting – classes, study – all the same. Because of my part time job, I don't really have time to get involved in any social activities. But sometimes I do get out and have fun. Like today – just returned from my friend's birthday party. Miguel is a great guy – lends me cars for street racing from time to time. We split the prize money when I win. His elder brother Guillermo is the leader of a street gang, they steal cars mostly (in case you're interested, the one I was driving was clean). But they do have noble intentions. Half of their _income_ goes for charity and I know for fact that they support one of Atlanta's nursing homes. Though Guillermo threatened to chop me up and feed my body parts to his Chihuahuas if I ever tell that to any soul alive. (Don't you see a strange pattern here? Seems like people enjoy threatening me with their pets!) So let's pretend that I never mentioned any of this to you.

Oh, that reminds me of the reason why Merle set that dog on me in the first place. And it is totally ridiculous! I think those drugs severely damaged his brain somehow... Because **that **was his way of warning me to stay away from his baby brother! Well, some _baby_ he is… Hmm, where was I? Oh, yea – Daryl. I can't say I'm so much as acquainted with the guy. He never makes the slightest effort to be amiable. When I run into him in the hallway, Daryl never answers my greetings. He probably doesn't even know my name – called me "Short Round" once. Damn my ball cap and backpack!

To his credit, I must admit that, compared to that appalling elder brother of his, Daryl is a true paragon of virtue. And he _is_ friends with T-Dog. That's the reason why the latter didn't press charges against Merle for the beatings. Though I think that T secretly dreams of locking up the racist scumbag somewhere far away and then losing the keys on purpose.

Oh! Almost forgot, Daryl has a crossbow! Isn't that an amusing coincidence? What a surprising twist it might have been. Ha-ha! Pigs would learn to fly in that case. First of all, the man isn't even aware of my existence and second – he must be anything but rich. Or else he wouldn't rent an apartment in this shithole. So, Mr. Hawkeye, you can't possibly be Daryl Dixon.

By the way, I've decided to settle for the crazy researcher theory. But please don't reveal my real name in that work of yours! I've only known one scientist in my life, Milton Mammet. He used to call his lab rats by the letters of an alphabet. Wonder if you would name me "Y" or "X." Hey, that's an idea! The X-men! I always liked Gambit most and we even share the same first letter. Maybe I should change my name? Like T-Dog did. Though that's not the best example, I should say. I mean, why on Earth would anyone want to name themselves after a beverage and a pet instead of Theodore Douglas?! Anyway, Gambit it is! Though it is a bit ironic, considering how much I suck at any card game that exists out there. Especially poker. The worst liar in the world!

Ugh, I feel a bit nauseous. Little hint – someone had too much to drink tonight. :(

Yours always, Gambit.

Dear Hawkeye Smith,

God help me with this dreadful hangover! I have a feeling that my head will explode any moment now. And reading the copy of the e-mail that I sent you last night didn't help the matter. They say that alcohol does dreadful things to your liver; well apparently, it does even worse things to your brain. I didn't get past the phrase where I expressed my wish of joining a nudist community. Awkward. No one needs that mental image. Feel free to mark all my e-mails as spam next time! As for me, I'll be damned if I have another drink in my life ever again.

Much embarrassed confirmed teetotaler, Glenn Rhee.


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Mr. Hawkeye,

I saved a man today! Ok, maybe, _saved_ is a bit of s strong word, but I did help the guy out. And by _out,_ I mean literally. The said man got himself stuck in the elevator. Dumbass! Didn't he see the sign? "Use this elevator at your own risk and don't blame us for the consequences?" It's there for a reason! Why else would we use the stairs all the time? Ok, maybe he doesn't know about the stairs, because he is new here. But he can read, right?

The guy was lucky that it was my day off. Or else he would have had to wait till the evening, when people come home from work. And even then, he'd have had some trouble since only Hershel and I know how to handle situations like this without damaging anything. Daryl would probably try to break the doors with an ax, like he did last time when Merle got stuck there. You can still see the marks he left on it. Mr. Greene was not pleased, but he refused to fix the stupid thing, explaining that it would cost too much and in that case he'd have to raise the rent. That sounded reasonable – no one wanted to pay extra money.

A former tenant, Jacqui, taught me the trick with the elevator, before she got married and moved to the suburbs to live with her husband, Dr. Edwin Jenner. She was an employee at the Atlanta City Zoning Office. Quite a nice lady I must say.

Anyway, the saved man turned out to be Rick Grimes – the presumed dead husband of Lori from the third floor and her son Carl's father. They moved in a couple of months ago because Shane Walsh (Rick's best friend) wanted them to live near him, so he could always provide help, when needed. Rick was serving the country in Afghanistan and went missing after one severe attack by Taliban forces. He was declared dead by mistake. Apparently the Grimes couple had some marital problems before Rick joined the Army (guess it was something really nasty since the man preferred to run away from his wife to a war zone) so it didn't take much time for Lori to recover from her loss and start dating Shane.

And now I sound like an old gossip… Damn it! Why do I even know all this stuff? _Thanks so much Dale!_ Dale Horvath is my older neighbor – his apartment is placed right under mine. He manages to provide me with all these stories about our tenants whenever I meet him in the hallway. I like Dale – he is the nicest guy I know, but sometimes I think his loneliness has made him overly obsessed with other people's lives. I don't even regret not having cable TV, because one little talk with the old man can easily be compared to watching three hours of some soap opera with a very twisted plot. Worst part is – I don't need this sort of information at all, because I'm the worst liar in the world! Did I mention it? Well, now you know. For future reference – if we ever meet, never tell me your secrets! If I didn't have you to tell things to, I'd burst. Maybe it's the same with Dale?

You know, at first I was a bit skeptical about this whole one sided relationship we are having. Of course, your anonymity was the main condition of our deal, but I was so curious about your true identity that I even considered doing some computer hacking in order to find out something more about you. Then again, as they say, a wise person never looks a gift horse in the mouth, so I dropped the idea. That is, I want to assure you, Mr. Hawkeye, that I do appreciate you paying my study loan and not even asking anything in return. Well, apart from these silly little letters from me…

In fact, it is a somewhat interesting experiment for me too. It's kind of nice to have someone to vent my thoughts and feelings to and the best part is that no one would judge me (you can of course, but I will never know that).

In other related news that may interest you – Morales' family from the sixth floor are moving to Birmingham. They are selling some of their stuff. Got myself a nice bookshelf and a head lamp at a very low price from them. I never cared to decorate my place, nor could I ever afford such luxury, for that matter. But something tells me that I also really need to buy myself curtains. The thicker, the better! And by "something" I mean Daryl-Freaking-Dixon!

Did I mention that our windows face each other? Well, guess what! A few days ago I noticed him smoking on the balcony – nothing unusual here, and he was staring in the direction of my apartment – again nothing illegal; but _the way _he was staring made me rather uncomfortable – in other words I was scared to death. It was one very hard and uneasy stare! The way predators look at their poor pray before they eat them. And it's not just my wild imagination because the same thing happened again, and again! Does Daryl have a grudge against me? One I don't know of? Maybe I've somehow offended him? Should I buy the man a fruit basket with an "I'm-sorry-for-whatever-I-may-have-done-it-won't-h appen-again-please-don't-kill-me-in-my-sleep" note? And I thought Merle was crazy!

Well, apart from that creepy serial killer's attitude towards me, Daryl is a decent man, I guess. He likes children – Carl Grimes and Sophia Peletier adore him. And I think Sophia's mom – Carol from the fifth floor, secretly holds the torch for the guy. Can't blame her – he is a rather attractive man and you should see those arms! I envy his remarkable biceps! Maybe I should start working out?

That reminds me – I should make a shopping list. Things to buy:

Curtains or blinds (ask if they have bullet/arrow proof ones!);

Dumbbells;

A new ball cap.

Because someone stole my old one! Yea, we have a thief among our tenants, it appears. One that collects red tattered caps. Because I don't see any other motive for anyone to steal that hat. I left it with my backpack in the hallway, when I went to help Rick get out of that elevator. I was absent for like ten seconds but when I returned, only the backpack was there and there was no sign of my cap anywhere near! It was my favorite one from my high school days. Used to play for my hometown's junior league baseball team. I kept the cap and the baseball bat as nostalgic reminders. Well, at least I still have the bat to protect myself with, in case someone wants to break into my apartment and rob me again.

Actually, I would've suspected Merle or Carl. But Merle is out of town (annual gala of KKK members?) and even if he wasn't, he would've taken the backpack instead of the hat. As for Carl, the boy has developed some kleptomaniac tendencies lately. Lori is at her wits end because she was summoned by his principal a couple of times earlier this year. As my professor of psychology Dr. Alice Stevens would say, it's the boy's way of attracting his mother's attention. Then again, Carl has a solid alibi – he had been at school when the crime was committed. And he likes me, why would he do that in the first place? So the mystery remains unsolved…

Oh, look at the time! Didn't notice how late it is. And I have a very difficult test in History tomorrow. Second Punic war. Got to get back to my textbook and find out who won – Hannibal or the Romans. Will write to you next week!

Your diligent student, Glenn Rhee.


	4. Chapter 4

Dear Mr. Hawkeye,

I'm dreadfully sick. I think it is either tonsillitis or the flu or maybe something even worse. And it's all Miguel's fault! Well, at least indirectly. The other day he invited me and another guy from college, Wayne Dunlap, to his grandmother's anniversary. She lives in a nursing home; last summer Wayne and I worked there as volunteers. The old lady grew on us – she was very kind and sweet so we decided to attend the birthday party.

In hindsight, I realize that I should've declined the invitation as politely as possible. Because it turned out to be a rather depressing evening – one of the nursing home's residents died the night before and another had a severe asthma attack during the party. And on top of all, that they served us menudo – which is apparently a traditional Mexican soup made with beef stomach (aka disgusting tasting guts). Normally I like Mexican food but this was absolutely _not my cup of tea_, so to speak. Worst part was that I couldn't offend Miguel's abuela by refusing to eat it. She was already upset by the previous events. The evening dragged on and on and I couldn't just leave because it would've been rude; really felt like a hostage at one moment. For a wild second the thought of jumping out of the open window looked disturbingly tempting. On the bright side – Wayne seemed to enjoy himself. He even liked the soup! As for me, I'm seriously considering a vegan lifestyle now. If presented with the choice – I would prefer raw carrots and cucumbers to some guts anytime.

And know what else? Miguel told me that Guillermo's gang took apart the red Dodge Challenger, the one which helped me win one of my street races. I loved that car and those vultures stripped it clean! :(

Oh, and on the way back from the nursing home I got caught in the heavy rain. Of course I forgot to take an umbrella with me. Guess who got drenched to the bone and didn't have a dry stitch on when that moron got home? So there you go – a high temperature and every other symptom of a bad cold as a result. Did you ever hear of such a discouraging series of events?

In other related news that has had our apartment complex buzzing for several days now – Carol Peletier's ex-husband got full custody on their daughter Sophia. He is moving to another state and taking the little girl with him. What a bastard! The man is doing that solely to get revenge on Carol for divorcing him. I saw Ed Peletier once when he came to see Sophia and didn't like him a bit. Dale told me that Ed used to abuse his wife on a daily basis before she finally got fed up with him and had the courage to file for a divorce. The scumbag didn't give her a single cent when they separated. That's how Carol came to live here. Poor woman is devastated. What stupid court would support that monster of a man and trust him with a child?!

All the tenants of our apartment complex are outraged by the whole situation – Daryl most of all! I think the man would've gladly smashed Ed's head in with something heavy if he had a chance. And I don't blame him. By the way, Dale is convinced that the younger Dixon and Carol are dating. As a matter of fact they do seem to be pretty close lately…

Speaking of Daryl, he _is _acting strange. The man has developed a sudden love for sleeveless shirts. Nothing unusual of course, but it's the **middle of October**, for God's sakes! And he is actually wearing all those sleeveless shirts with a _vest_. What kind of logic is that?! I'm worried for him. Moreover, it's a bit distracting too. Especially when Daryl started to perform some of those fancy yoga exercises on the balcony. Yet another of his new habits. It looks like the man quit smoking and has taken to supporting a healthy lifestyle. I think it creeps the hell out of Merle. Heard them arguing about the "Zen bullshit", to quote the elder Dixon.

And for the first time in my life, I kind of agree with the douchebag. I can't concentrate on my homework because of Daryl and his damn yoga (yea, I still didn't get those much needed curtains). Yesterday he noticed my staring and waved at me – that was unexpected, to say the least. I felt so awkward that I actually wished for the ground to open up and swallow me at that very moment. It's embarrassing to admit but I often find myself drooling by the window instead of paying attention to my French grammar textbook. Does it make me gay? I'm starting to question my sexuality lately.

Maybe I should test this theory with some hot girl? Someone like Amy Harrison – the younger sister of Andrea Harrison from the sixth floor. Should've asked her out when I had a chance. Amy is a real beauty with all that silky blond hair and impeccable skin... no wonder the girl quit college and moved to the West coast, I think she wants to become an actress or something. Andrea was furious and upset by her sister's decision. Dale is trying his best to comfort her. I suspect that the old man has a weak spot for Andrea. Sadly she doesn't seem to appreciate it.

By the way, remember our new tenant, Rick Grimes – the one that stuck in the elevator? Well, he turned out to be quite a nice fellow after all. And the man is good at connecting with people – even Dale and Mr. Greene seem to respect him. Of course, not everyone was glad to see him. Merle, for instance, had a bit of a brawl with Rick the other day. Something involving choke holds that Daryl considered being illegal. And then there is Shane, who obviously wasn't happy about his best friend's return from the dead (according to Dale). I myself wouldn't have guessed that on my own because if Walsh really is upset by anything, he puts on a very convincing brave face.

Rick is eager to get back to his old work as a police officer. Lori strongly disapproves of that. I guess his work was one of the main issues they had before he joined the Army. And it looks like Grimes hasn't yet adjusted to the normal civilian lifestyle. He told me that he misses his comrades-in-arms, especially some guy by the name Morgan Jones. Rick has daily phone-talks with him. I'm beginning to suspect that he misses that Morgan dude more than he ever missed Lori during his service. Rick is actually trying to convince his friend to leave the suburbs and move to Atlanta with his son Duane.

Ok, enough with the vulgar gossip. Not feeling well and I should read some Homer before my bedtime. Not the Simpsons, but the blind guy from ancient Greece. Quite amusing stuff once you get used to the hexameter verse.

You know, maybe it's the flu or the rain outside, but I kind of feel homesick right now. Miss my family and Michigan. :(

Yours, terribly lonely, miserable and sore-throaty, Glenn Rhee


	5. Chapter 5

Dearest Mr. Hawkeye,

It's been almost two and a half weeks since I wrote to you last time. I'm terribly sorry for violating our agreement like that, but I had a huge pile of bills to pay and couldn't afford internet for a while. It's all settled now, next time I'll try being more accurate with both my emails to you as well as with my budget allocation.

I know that you wish to remain anonymous and will never answer me back, but I have a very important question to ask: ARE YOU BALD?

I had a dream about you the other night and you looked just like Fester Adams in it. Now I can't get that image of you out of my head. Repondez, s'il vous plait! You don't even have to answer this yourself; just let that lawyer of yours, Michael Coleman, send me a note. He can just state: _Mr. Smith is quite bald_, or_ Mr. Smith is not bald_, or_ Mr. Smith has a bush of hair on his __head_.

By the way, I fell down the stairs a couple of days ago. But don't you worry; nothing serious – just couple of broken ribs and some bruises. You ought to see my inner thigh! It's blue and mahogany with little streaks of orange. My health insurance expired a long time ago so I didn't go to the doctor. Daryl gave me some strange pills to ease the pain. Great stuff, nothing hurts now and I feel a bit _lightheaded_, if you know what I mean. ;) Guess he got those from Merle's drug stash. Not that I mind. Daryl is a real human being – not a Dixon at all.

As for my unlucky fall, I think that someone pushed me from behind, although I don't remember anything clearly – must have hit my head pretty hard after all. Maggie Greene (our landlord's eldest daughter) found me lying unconscious at the end of the staircase. She and Rick helped me get back to my apartment. After that, Rick went all straight into police officer mode and asked me a couple of questions, but unfortunately I couldn't help him much.

Dale is very disturbed by this accident. He is convinced that someone did it on purpose. Well, if someone in fact did it, than it was _definitely_ on purpose. No doubts about that. I would've suspected Merle Dixon, but the man is no longer with us. Hooray!

No, he is not dead, as you might have assumed. The guy came to the conclusion that the atmosphere of this apartment complex had become inimical to the maintenance of friendly relations between him and other tenants. In other words, according to Daryl, he got fed up with _the_ _sorry pricks_ around here and moved out. To be fair, the elder Dixon had his reasons for that. The man almost lost his right hand because of us. As you know, I'm not the biggest fan of Merle but even I feel a bit sorry for him.

I guess you're eager to know how it all happened. Well, remember I'd mentioned our elevator that never worked properly? You may surely blame that monster for everything. Perhaps it also had a grudge against Merle. A vindictive machine, like in those lame horror movies. Anyway, let's get back to the part about Merle losing his hand.

A couple of weeks ago, Merle wanted to use the elevator, but it had been already overloaded – Rick, T-Dog and Andrea got there first. Although I don't understand why people take the risk, the thing is not safe – I always prefer the stairs. Anyway, someone (Andrea insisted it was T-Dog) pushed the button to close the doors in front of him. Merle tried to stop them by slipping his hand in between the shutting doors, but it wasn't the brightest idea at all, as it turned out, because the doors didn't open. You'd think that was bad enough. Well, there's worse to come. The elevator started to move up!

I happened to be in the lobby at the time and witnessed the whole thing; it wasn't pretty. At one precise moment, I actually was on the verge of either fainting or puking my guts out. Yet, I did try to help the unfortunate racist retrieve his hand back. The limb in question was severely damaged but, hey, at least it wasn't completely cut off. And you know what was most annoying? Merle accused me of his injuries. What kind of logic is that?! I wasn't even in that stupid elevator! Hell is paved with good intentions, as they say…

Anyway, I called the ambulance and that ungrateful asshole was rushed to the hospital where they managed to save his hand. Merle didn't stay there long though, he took off without an official discharge from his doctor. Daryl regards that as another display of his brother's toughness. I'd say that's a vivid display of his _dumbness_. Then again, who am I to judge? :-/

Oh, I forgot to tell you the main news of the week – it looks like I and Daryl are becoming friends. He checked on me after my accident and, as I'd already mentioned above, offered me some medicine. That was really nice and neighborly of him! He also informed me that Merle moved out. Have no idea why he felt like he had to tell me about that. I certainly won't miss the guy. Good riddance.

Actually, I heard them fighting right before Daryl's visit to my place. Perhaps they were arguing about whose turn it was to make the squirrel stew. Hunting is their hobby, so they indulge themselves with such culinary extravaganza from time to time. It's not like I'm spying on them or anything; I know this because of the disgusting smell from their kitchen. I had to air out my apartment for hours after that.

Be that as it may, whatever the reason for Merle's decision to move away was, I'm glad. I think that he was a bad influence on Daryl, although the latter seems to miss him, which is sort of sad. :( Then again, according to Dale, Daryl might soon change his status of a lonely bachelor. The old man saw him buying flowers for Carol. By the way, she appealed against the court decision concerning the custody over her daughter. We all hope Carol wins this time.

I don't know why but that thought disturbs me a little. Not the part about Sophia, but the one about Daryl and Carol. I'm a horrid person. I should be happy for both of them. Probably it's just my envy talking, haven't got laid for a while now. I guess it's time to get back into the dating business again. Maybe I should try one of those online dating sites? Then again, no one knows what sort of pervert one might find there. Better rule out that option, just to be on the safe side.

Let's hope I'll meet someone at the Marvel Universe Convention that takes place in Atlanta this month. Oh, that reminds me, I need to buy a trench coat - want to cosplay Gambit. Do you wish to join me? We could make great impersonations of Hawkeye and Gambit together! Wouldn't that be amazing? :)

Damn it. The drugs are wearing out. My chest is hurting again, better go take some more pills and then lie down, try to get some sleep.

Yours, about to get high, Gambit.


	6. Chapter 6

My love and gratitude to the lovely BETAs of this chapter - **Nangke**, **doctorkaitlyn** and** undeadstoryteller - **they are the best. **Nangke** also made amazingly gorgeous fanart for this story. Unfortunately, FFnet doesn't allow normal links here, those of you who are interested, please go to my profile page. I've posted the links to the drawings there.

* * *

Dearest Mr. Hawkeye,

I guess it's not the best way to start a letter, but I have some awful news to tell you.

Remember, in one of my previous emails to you, I'd mentioned Jacqui, a lady who used to live in this apartment complex? Well, I've just come from her funeral. Turns out, her husband – Dr. Edwin Jenner, was an active member in some religious cult. They say he joined it after the tragic death of his first wife. Kind of strange, considering that he seemed like a rational man and devoted his life to science… Somehow, he convinced Jacqui to become a cult follower as well. They committed suicide together three days ago. Apparently it was poison gas that killed them.

I'm a bit shaken by this, because I liked Jacqui. She was always kind to me… to all of us here, as a matter of fact. I think T-Dog is depressed too. He used to date Jacqui before she met Jenner. Most of the tenants who knew her attended the memorial service. It was sad. She shouldn't have died like that. Andrea said that since there is nothing we can do to change what happened, it's not our place to judge the dead. But Dale disagreed, reminding her that suicide is one of the worst sins. I'm inclined to side with the old man, although I blame the cult founder obviously. Philip Blake, if I got the name right.

The bodies were cremated. To tell the truth, I don't understand that. Of course, I realize that cremation is a normal practice, but I'm not quite comfortable with it. You know, that way, it feels like they were just gone. Erased. Like they never existed.

In fact, I had a spirited debate on the subject with Daryl. I might have overreacted a little. I shouldn't have snapped at him. I need to apologize later. Carol just told me that his mother died in a fire when he was a kid. Didn't know that. I feel like shit now… 'Judge not that ye be not judged.' Damn me and my big mouth.

The strangest part was that Daryl didn't say anything back to me. I mean, he's not the most restrained person when he gets mad at somebody. For example, when Daryl was informed about Merle being rushed to the hospital after the elevator incident, he tossed a bag full of groceries at Rick in a fit of rage. Luckily, Rick was quick enough to dodge the blow; he could've gotten a concussion, had it hit him in the head. :S

Anyway, my point is that Daryl's calm reaction to my shouting was not like him. I admit that I got carried away in the heat of the argument and wouldn't have blamed him had he punched me in the face for my impertinence. Hope he will accept my apologies.

Actually, now that I think of it, it seems that all of the tenants of this apartment complex are at odds with each other at this point. Andrea is sulking because Dale didn't approve of her constant worrying about Amy. Daryl and T-Dog have some misunderstandings of their own. And don't even get me started on Popeye and Bluto's alpha-male bickering…

Oh, the last line needs some explanation. Daryl once called Lori 'Olive Oyl' (I guess it's because she is skinny and tall). So doesn't that make Rick and Shane Popeye and Bluto, regarding their confusing love triangle? Just don't tell that to any of them, if you ever meet them. Unlike Daryl, Shane wouldn't hesitate before punching me in the face for such impudence :)

To tell the truth, Shane's behavior has changed drastically since Rick's return. Always looks as if he is waiting for a reason to get into a fight with someone. Rick went back to his old work in the police force and got the promotion that Shane was hoping to get for himself. On top of that, there is Lori between them. Shane is dating Andrea currently and Lori doesn't seem to like it. For some reason, neither does Dale.

The old man is always complaining about Shane nowadays. According to Dale, our Bluto is some kind of "devil's spawn." I don't know about that, moreover it's none of my business in the first place. Although it's not a secret that Shane is not the most popular person around here. Especially after the incident with Otis.

It happened a few months ago, before Rick's miraculous resurrection. Otis (one of the previous tenants) had an argument with Lori because he assumed that Carl purposely scratched his new car. When Shane heard of the accusations, he had a private talk with Otis. Afterwards, the latter and his family moved away. Rumor has it that Patricia (Otis' wife) inherited a little farm in the country and they decided to try their hand at agriculture. But Dale is convinced that the real reason they moved out was because Shane threatened or blackmailed Otis somehow (I, personally, think that the old man has been watching way too many soap operas lately).

Oh, boy. What a horrible gossip I am. Well, as they say – he that touches pitch shall be defiled. Don't get me wrong – Dale is one of my closest friends, but he seems to know so much about our neighbors' private lives, it gets creepy sometimes. :) As a matter of fact, that actually got him into trouble with Daryl the other day.

Dale and I had our usual little chat in the foyer when Daryl suddenly stormed in and started shouting at the old man and calling him names. Something about the character from "On Golden Pond" (Dale has quite dubious taste in hats). That was Daryl's polite way of asking Dale to mind his own business and not pry into other people's affairs. You should have seen the astonished look on Dale's face at that moment. As much as I felt for him, it _was_ funny. On the bright side, Dale doesn't appear to have any hard feelings towards the younger Dixon. To quote him: "_underneath that rough redneck façade, Daryl is a decent, honest man._" I couldn't agree more.

BTW, I keep getting these mixed signals from Daryl. Although, not sure if I should share this with you or not. It's kind of really personal. Then again, I need to tell someone, and even though you'll never answer to me it feels as if… well…

I think that Daryl is FLIRTING with me! Or maybe I'm reading too much into this. Either way, I'm totally confused. Suit yourself – last week I, along with the other neighbors, was invited to Carol's birthday party. Everything was nice and fun (if you didn't take the buzzkill Shane into account) and then all of a sudden, Daryl started encouraging me to drink more wine, because _he wanted to see how red my face would get_. Should I consider that as a racial insult or a pick-up line? Have no idea. There is a pretty big chance I'll get myself an arrow in the ass if I flirt back… Don't want that - my broken ribs haven't healed yet from that fall of mine. Besides, he has that thing with Carol going on. And I'm involved with Maggie.

Yea, we kind of hooked up. Sort of. Maggie paid me a visit last night – Hershel sent her to bring me some painkillers. And all of a sudden, she suggested having sex with her. Who could have thought, right? I mean, Maggie is really hot – way out of my league. And she could have anyone, but for some unexplainable reason she chose me. I'm not even her type! Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered and everything but… it was SO unexpected. I was a bit shocked and just went with the situation. Then again who in their right mind could've rejected a beautiful girl, if they were in my shoes?

I think it was a onetime thing. Maggie won't even speak to me now. I'm not sure how I feel about it. On one hand my pride is hurt, but on the other hand I feel kind of relieved. Does that make me a terrible person? :-/

I pretend sometimes that life is just a game (like Portal) which I must play. If I lose, I shrug my shoulders and laugh – also if I win. It's not that easy to meet the petty hazards of the day lightly and without a fuss, but, it is easier to get through, if you develop that kind of character.

Okay, that's all for today, I'm already late for my shift at the pizza place.

Late for work and slightly confused, Glenn Rhee.

P.S. Carol lost her cat. The pet belonged to Sophia, but Ed didn't let the girl take it with her when he got the custody. If you happen to see a white cat with a black spot on the left ear, please contact somebody from this apartment complex. Carol is devastated and we all want to help her find that darn cat.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you all for reading! Special thanks to **bgn**, **californiabound17** and **zombieslayer5 **for their continuing support of this story.

To **slyprentice**: I'm very glad that you are enjoying the story, and the fact that you also like the book makes me even happier. Thank you!

To **what evil lurks**: Thank you for noticing that bit with the hostage. I tried my best and happy to know that someone appreciates those little parallels :)


	7. Chapter 7

As always, my love and gratitude to the lovely BETAs **doctorkaitlyn **and****** undeadstoryteller**. And shout-out to **Nangke **for her valid advice and suggestions.

* * *

Dearest Mr. Hawkeye,

You'd never believe what I have to say to you! A little hint: _Swee'Pea_ and _cockroaches_. Yea, I know, lame of me, I've never been good at this. In other words - Lori is pregnant and Mr. Greene is a hoarder! Who could've thought, right? 0_o I mean there is nothing surprising about the first part of the news, since Lori is a married woman and also has a complicated love life (not gossiping, just stating the obvious) but the second piece of information is a bit astonishing and not in a pleasant way, I must admit.

How do I know all of this? Well, I went to the pharmacy the other day to buy a package of… Never mind. The point is that I ran into Lori there and overheard her conversation with the shop girl about pregnancy tests. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out the rest. It was a very awkward situation, I must admit. I tried to congratulate her but she didn't seem happy about it. Moreover, Lori asked me not to mention her condition to Rick. And that is the worst part. God knows I'm not the best person at handling secrets. I guess I'll have to avoid Rick for the next couple of weeks… months… or whatever time Lori needs to tell him the news. Because otherwise I can imagine myself going like: "Hey, Rick! How is your day? Lori is pregnant. Congrats! The weather is great isn't it?" I wonder how Bluto Shane might react when he finds out about the upcoming addition to the Grimes family.

Why are women so confusing? I mean, take Maggie for instance. One day she is mocking my qualities in bed (you hear that noise? that's the sound of my self-respect going down the drain), stating that everything is over between us and the next day she is jealous of me and Lori. I was just helping the latter with her heavy shopping bags. So *BAM!* we are back to dating again. Or whatever it is… I don't really know.

Anyway. Maggie wanted to try something new if you know what I mean. She has this kink for sex in public places. I'm not very comfortable with it, to be honest. Had to turn down a couple of her suggestions, such as the public toilet and the elevator. Because the first one is simply gross and the second one is completely out of the question. Not going anywhere near that monster again, not after _the Merle incident_. Nope. Then she got mad at me for not cooperating and I had to think of some compromise. I had this idea that was quite good… Or so I thought at the time. In order to surprise her, I managed to get the keys from the attic and left Maggie a note to join me there. Well, that was a wrong decision in a nutshell.

Guess who didn't get laid but instead got a huge headache on top of my already existing problems? Yep, I'm the lucky winner. Turns out Hershel secretly uses the attic as storage. For garbage. Because he is a hoarder. Not kidding! You should've seen those piles of junk. :S The smell was disgusting and I'd heard some suspicious squeaking sounds. I bet they were rats! Totally understand now where those cockroaches that invade my apartment did come from. I've been trying to get rid of those beasts for months, spent a lot of money on different types of insecticide, but they only thrived on it and grew bigger, bolder. And just think that it was Mr. Greene behind it…

Then again, I feel for the old man. Maggie told me that she had known about it all along when I confronted her with this issue. Hershel developed this disturbing addiction after the tragic deaths of his wife and a stepson a few years, prior to when I moved into this apartment complex. Maggie's stepbrother Shaun drowned while surfing and his mother could never recover after that; she slowly faded away and died from a heart attack a couple of months later. At first Hershel's hoarding habit started as a refusal to let go of his wife's personal belongings, then he began collecting anything that reminded him of late Mrs. Greene and eventually it came down to stocking the attic with any junk he stumbled upon. Maggie and Beth (Hershel's younger daughter) have consulted a psychiatrist and he told them that it was some sort of coping with grief mechanism and that their father should get professional treatment. They tried to persuade Hershel to get help but so far, he keeps refusing. He won't acknowledge the problem. And it seems that Maggie is indulging him - she forbade me to tell this to any of the other tenants.

So how should I resolve the given dilemma? On one hand, I don't want to betray Maggie's trust but on the other, I don't like the situation as a whole. Hershel's addiction is unhealthy and kind of dangerous to everyone who lives in this building. I mean, the CDC would definitely not approve of this.

Perhaps I'll tell Dale about it. They seem to be on friendly terms; maybe the old man could persuade Mr. Greene to clear out the attic and join a therapy group or something like that.

And now let's get to the other news of the week.

Daryl is acting weird. I've got the impression that he is avoiding me. What the hell did I do wrong this time? I mean, I did apologize for that incident at the funeral and he did seem to forgive me. Have no idea what's gotten into him. It seems that he is always mad over something lately. Yesterday, he lashed out at Lori after she asked him if he had seen Rick leaving the building. He yelled back something about 'not being anybody's bitch'. What was that all about? I'm glad that Shane wasn't around at the moment or else it would've gotten ugly.

Maggie thinks that Daryl is hostile towards her as well. She's probably just imagining things. But he's not speaking to me either. I feel hurt because I don't even know the reason of his apparent frustration. It's not fair of him to act like that. I thought we were becoming friends… or maybe it was just my wishful thinking. The man is a walking mystery to me. For example, until last week, I didn't even know that he possessed a computer, not to speak of wi-fi. I saw him with a box for a brand new laptop the other day, I guess his old one fell apart and he had to buy a new one.

Oh, and what is the freaking deal with that colleague of his, Martinez? Do you know what his first name is? _Caesar_. Yeah, like the salad or the Roman emperor! Depends on which one you prefer. What a ridiculous name. :S I don't like him. He looks suspicious to me. Moreover he is the follower of the same religious cult that caused Jacqui and her husband commit suicide. Rumor has it that Martinez is close to the cult founder Philip Blake. I know for fact that Daryl hates that cult and everything that is connected to it so why would he become friends with that dude? Well, apart from the fact that they both work at the same auto repair shop as mechanics. I mean, Daryl spends a lot of his spare time with Martinez as of late. And I'm not in the least jealous! Just curious. Although it does annoy me quite a bit for some reason…

Yeah, I almost forgot to tell you! Last weekend I did manage to go to that Marvel Universe Convention I'd mentioned earlier in one of my previous emails. I invited Maggie along. It would've been more fun if she'd have dressed up as Rouge to match my Gambit costume, but I guess cosplaying is not her thing. However, we did enjoy ourselves there. Fun fact: I saw a lot of Hawkeyes there! One of them even reminded me of someone, which is weird. I wanted to get closer but Maggie distracted me with some question and I lost my chance. I wonder who that could have been…

By the way, we are still looking for Sophia's cat, Fluffy (why do kids tend to give their pets such ridiculous and trite names?).

Daryl is the most anxious about finding it. He goes out every day after work and searches the streets. Carol is one lucky woman to have him. Well, after Ed and everything, she deserves it… We are all hoping to hear good news about Sophia's custody in the next couple of weeks or so.

One more thing. It appears that Morales' old apartment is no longer vacant. Maggie told me that we have an addition - three male tenants. They are cousins or something like that. Rented the apartment couple days ago. I think Maggie knows the younger one; they used to attend the same high school.

Oh my God, look at the time! I'm going to be late for my classes. And I have to see Dale to tell him about Hershel. I need to finally end the reign of cockroaches in my kitchen once and for all.

Yours, slightly entomophobic, Glenn Rhee.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you all for reading and supporting this little fic! It really means a lot to me.

I'm so sorry it's taking me so much time to update but I assure all my readers that this fic will be completed. It's not abandoned in any case! Most likely this fic will have 12 or 13 chapters in total. Again, thank you for your patience! :)


End file.
